Jerinne remembered her last conversation with Amaya, and that seemed like a good place to look for the source of the sewage: Colonel Altarn of Druth Intelligence.
But that was a mission for another day.
Dayne waited as Jerinne left, and the Grandmaster went back over to his desk.
“Tea, Dayne?” he asked as he poured himself a cup. “I think you could use some.”
“Rather,” Dayne said. “Can you explain further what is going on with Amaya?”
“I wish I could,” the Grandmaster said. “I am shocked that she had such secrets.”
Dayne scowled. Amaya did have secrets, that was true. He remembered she told him she didn’t trust the Grandmaster, especially in terms of how Jerinne was being treated by the Order. How he had kept Dayne isolated and nearly exiled. Perhaps that was coloring his read of this conversation, but something about the Grandmaster was a warning.
He was being too kind.
Perhaps a test was in order.
“You should know that Jerinne and I had been working together on Amaya’s request,” he said. “She wanted to supplement Jerinne’s training, since she never received a mentor.”
“Hmm,” the Grandmaster responded, as if it was just a curiosity. “And she told you to keep it secret. See, that’s another thing. Perhaps she was planning on positioning you and Jerinne as weapons she could use in her ploy. Or perhaps you were her scapegoat if things went wrong.”
“Scapegoat?” Dayne asked, taking the tea the Grandmaster offered. “How so?”
“Well, perhaps she then asked another favor. Look into this, chase after that. Something that seems noble and appropriate, but when it went wrong, what would you do?” The Grandmaster chuckled. “I know you well enough to answer. You would take whatever blame there was to protect her. You did it just moments ago to protect Miss Fendall. It’s in your nature, Dayne. It’s why you’re a Tarian.”
“Just a Candidate,” Dayne said. “And we both know that’s all it will be.”
“Tell me about this escapade,” the Grandmaster said. “Did Amaya start it?”
“Not at all,” Dayne said, sitting down. He recounted what he could—Golman Haberneck, the Vollingale boy, the journey underground, the Brotherhood, the Thorn, the battle in Saint Bridget’s Square—only leaving out the details that were not his to share.
“If it wasn’t for Jerinne, I would have been lost,” Dayne said. “I don’t understand the power Crenaxin wielded, but . . . I don’t know if I’ll ever feel clean of it. What I did, what I could have done.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” he said, his voice haunted. “Like you’re a passenger in your own body as it commits horrors . . .”
“Yes, exactly,” Dayne said. He was grateful that the Grandmaster seemed to understand. “If Jerinne hadn’t been able to crack through to me, I don’t know what would have happened.”
“Then we are all very fortunate she was there. That you both were there.” He sighed. “In light of these revelations about Amaya, I do feel I have made mistakes.”
“For what it’s worth, sir, I am skeptical that she is guilty of these things. I’ve had my arguments with her, but I do not think she is capable of conspiracy and cold-blooded murder.”
The Grandmaster smiled. “You truly see the best, Dayne. It’s a blessing. I hope you are right, but the evidence is, I’m given to understand, compelling. But I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Then what?”
“With the new policies of protection for the Parliament being jointly handled by the marshals, Tarians, and Spathians, your position of ‘liaison’ seems . . . extraneous.”
“I was already at odds with that, sir.”
“And moreover, I think having you alone over there has left you vulnerable to bad influences. So, I’ve decided to move you back into the chapterhouse.”
“Really, sir?”
“To a specific end,” the Grandmaster said. “Amaya’s primary duties involved training the Initiates, especially the third-years. I am recalling you here so you can take charge of their training.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Dayne asked. “I mean . . . that isn’t a Candidate’s role.”
“Perhaps not,” the Grandmaster said. “But I can think of no one better to shape the minds of these young Initiates. Do you accept?”
“Gratefully,” Dayne said.
“I’m glad,” the Grandmaster said. “I think things will go very well by having you close.”
Lady Mirianne had expected treachery. She prepared for it, planned for it. She had smelled it in the air with Colonel Altarn.
Mirianne strove to be prepared for every eventuality she could foresee, which was why she had a plan in place for a whole Scapegoat Grand Ten, and candidates lined up for every position. She had expected Altarn to take her own spin, but to use Miri’s plan to actually expose and kill members of the true Ten was atrocious.
Atrocious, but anticipated.
Which is why it was fortunate to have the disgraced Amaya Tyrell all but delivered to Miri. Her rescue and delivery of Amaya had not gone as she planned—she had thoroughly expected for Amaya to go to Dayne and then he would have gone to her for help—but the results were the same. Amaya was in position to be her weapon when she needed it.
She would need it. She would have to be ready for a confrontation with Colonel Altarn, and possibly the others, before too long.
Not that she mourned the loss of Duchess Leighton, High Judge Feller Pin, or especially Chestwick Millerson. All three of them had been trouble, and she had plans at the ready to handle each of them, if needed. But Altarn was definitely an adversary to watch out for now.
As well as the Grandmaster. That was quite shocking, that he would have so willingly been Altarn’s pawn. If he was the one who actually held the sword that killed Leighton, Pin, and Millerson, that was a fundamental shift in his very character. She wasn’t sure how Altarn had managed that, if her methods of turning him were natural or unnatural pressures, but regardless, it highlighted how critical it was for
